


a garden to guide you home

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 13:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18895336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Fero dreams of Samol. It used to be Samol's domain, after all.





	a garden to guide you home

**Author's Note:**

> austin: mentions in one fraction of a line that Samol used to be "in charge" of dreams  
> me: I must write This
> 
> unbetaed!!

Fero keeps dreaming of Samol. 

 

Hella told him that can happen, when you care about someone and they die. Something about memories, or a way to let yourself keep seeing them, remembering them, or something. It makes sense. He dreams about Mother Glory sometimes, after all. 

  
  


_ “And my son,” says Samol, “how’s he doin?” _

 

_ Fero shrugs. “Fine, he’s still in bed, mostly. Hadrian’s orders.” _

 

_ The corner of Samol’s mouth twitches. “Hmm. Well, as long as he’s gettin’ rest.” _

 

_ “I guess,” said Fero, “It seems like it’d be boring to spend so much time in bed.” _

 

_ “I suppose that depends on who you share it with,” says Samol. _

 

_ Fero tilts his head up to look at Samol, squinting against the light coming through the trees above them. Samol smiles down at him, warm as the sun, warm as the earth underneath Fero’s feet. _

 

_ “I guess.” _

  
  


These dreams  _ feel  _ different though, and they keep happening, and so, eventually, Hella makes him talk to Hadrian.

 

“He's good with this stuff,” says Hella.

 

“Shouldn’t  _ you _ be good with this stuff? Aren't you like, dating the goddess of death?”

 

Hella flushes slightly, but keeps prompting him along towards Hadrian's house. “Yeah, but that's… it's different. Those dreams are different.”

 

Fero makes a face. It doesn't  _ feel _ like it's different. Or at least, not different enough that he has to talk to  _ Hadrian  _ about it. 

  
  


_ They’re playing checkers, this time. Or, more accurately, they’re sitting with a checkerboard in between them while Fero describes a Sprangaroo in more detail than other people ever let him give. Samol laughs, warm and delighted, and Fero grins back, leaning towards to sound. _

 

_ He’s missed it. _

 

_ He didn’t think you could miss  _ sounds _. _

 

_ Samol’s smile fades a little. “You can. There’s more sounds that I miss than would rather never hear again.” _

 

_ “Like what?” _

 

_ Samol closes his eyes for a moment, looking up at the sky. Fero looks up too. There’s a sun in his dream, looking and behaving like the sun used to.  _

 

_ “Just… a great many things,” says Samol, “living things.” _

 

_ “I’m a living thing,” says Fero, “and you can hear me!” _

 

_ Samol looks back down at him. _

 

_ “Yes, I can,” he says slowly, “I wonder why that is?” _

  
  


Hadrian nods seriously while Fero describes one of the dreams, or tries to. It's hard to know what part to tell him - how Samol laughed in the dream, a tilt to his shoulders that felt free of the weight they'd had when he was alive, the way the arm he slung around Fero's shoulders felt as warm and real as anything in Fero's waking life, the way Fero felt on waking, expecting to open his eyes and see Samol asleep beside him. 

 

He leaves that last part off. It feels too much like a secret. Not even the Samol in his dreams knows that part.It's not really part of the dreams, anyway.  


 

“It sounds like a normal part of the grieving process,” says Hadrian. 

 

“Great, thanks,” says Fero. He turns to look up at Hella. “Told you so.”

  
  


_ They eat together at an old stone table, cool on Fero’s skin as he rests on it to lean toward Samol over their food, gesturing as he speaks. Samol laughs, his hand almost touching Fero’s where it’s resting on the table. Fero can feel them warmth of him, seeping through the stone. It’s comforting, to feel him so close. _

 

_ The next time Fero’s hands flutter in a gesture, they come down on top of Samol’s. Samol smiles across at him, and it feels as though his expression cracks open Fero’s chest, letting the light in for the first time since winter began. _

  
  


It doesn’t really come up again. Hella sometimes gives him an odd look here or there when someone else mentions that they’re not sleeping well, as though she’s waiting for him to chime in with his own stories of restless nights. He just shrugs. He doesn’t really need to sleep anyway.

 

But he does like the times when he gets to see Samol again.

  
  


_ “Fero,” says Samol.  _

 

_ His voice is low, serious. Fero forces himself to look up, resting his chin on Samol’s chest.. Samol’s is… he looks like he did when Fero saw him the last time, on the boat back to the University. _

 

_ His hands curl in the fabric of Samol’s shirt. “Yeah?” _

 

_ “You can’t keep this up forever,” says Samol, “I know a thing or two about trying to pull the frayed edges of things together and I know what kind of toll that takes on a person.” _

 

_ Fero frowns. “What?” _

 

_ Samol blinks, the resigned, sad expression of his face changing to a frown. “What d’you mean  _ what _ , this, what you’re doing-” _

 

_ “I’m just sleeping,” says Fero. _

 

_ “You don’t need to sleep.” _

 

_ “Yeah, but when I do I get to hang out with you,” says Fero. He pushes himself up with one arm, gesturing with the other. “Besides, everyone  _ else _ sleeps so there’s nothing to really  _ do _ during the night anyway.” _

 

_ Samol sits up, a hand going to Fero’s shoulder to steady him. The motion brings them in closer and Fero leans into Samol’s touch. He smells like the new shoots coming out of the underground garden. Fero wriggles, happy for a moment. _

 

_ “So you just go to sleep,” says Samol slowly, “and then you’re here.” _

 

_ “Yeah?” _

 

_ “And you’re not doing any kind of ritual?” _

 

_ Fero thinks for a moment. “I normally get like a blanket, and then lie down, does that count?” _

 

_ “I think you need to go speak with my son,” says Samol. _

 

_ “Why?” _

 

_ The dream ripples at the edges of Fero’s vision, a sign that he’s waking up. Samol must see the change in him, because his grip on Fero’s shoulder tightens. _

 

_ “Go see Samot and tell him about these dreams,” says Samol, “tell him I sent you.” _

  
  


Fero does. He doesn’t have much else to do, really, and he figures Samot’s probably bored after hanging out in bed for like two weeks. Hadrian’s there, of course, very slowly changing Samot’s bandages.

 

“Hi,” says Fero.

 

“Samot can’t really have visitors right now-” begins Hadrian.

 

Samot put a hand over Hadrian’s. “I feel fine Hadrian. I’m not going to overexert myself by simply  _ talking _ .”

 

“Yeah!” says Fero, “besides, I’ll be super quick, I just have to pass on a message from Samol.”

 

Samot’s expression freezes in place. “What?”

 

Hadrian frowns. “Fero, that’s-”

 

“So I keep having these dreams,” says Fero over the top of him, “where Samol and I are like, hanging out, and in the last one he told me to come tell you about them, and even though it’s just a dream I figured I probably should. Hella said there’s weird dream stuff happening.”

 

“There certainly is,” says Samot faintly, “I, ah. What else did he say?”

 

Hadrian sighs. “Samot-”

 

Samot shushes him. “No, I want to hear it.” He turns back to Fero expectantly.

 

Fero makes a face, thinking. “Not much. He asked me if I did a ritual to talk to him, which is a weird thing to ask, but I don’t, I just like, lie down and go to sleep and then I’m in the garden with Samol.”

 

Samot has gone very still. “How long?”

 

“I dunno,” says Fero, “I’m usually asleep for a couple hours I think.”

 

“No, I mean- how long have these dreams been happening?”

 

“For like a couple of months,” says Fero. He swallows, quick, careful to keep his voice steady. “After he died. Hadrian said it was part of the grieving process, or whatever.”

 

Samot turns to Hadrian. “You knew about this?”

 

“I didn’t know it was like  _ this _ !” says Hadrian, “He just said he was having dreams about being with Samol.”

 

“I-” Samot takes a deep breath in a lets it out slowly. “Hadrian, I need you to take me down to Uklan’s lab. I need to make something.”

 

Hadrian opens his mouth to protest but Samot is already turned away from him, towards Fero.

 

“You need to come with me as well.”

 

“Okay,” says Fero, “Why?”

 

“I’m going to test your dreams,” says Samot, “I have a feeling we’re dealing with something much more... complicated.”

 

It takes a bit of badgering by Samot to get Hadrian to agree. He waves off Hadrian as he tries to help him stand, putting on a show of walking quickly towards Uklan’s lab, although Fero can see him wince as they go downstairs. Hadrian follows behind, his hands twisting some spare bandages

 

Hadrian must see Samot’s expression as he takes the last stair, opening his mouth probably to ask Samot if he’s  _ sure _ he shouldn’t be back in bed. Samot hadn’t seemed particularly pleased the last five times that Hadrian had asked, so Fero says the first thing that comes into his head, drawing their focus to him instead of each other.

 

“So if they’re not dreams,” says Fero, “what are they?”

 

“I don’t know,” says Samot, “if you were performing a ritual I’d say it was an echo of his spirit, or some kind of manifestation of your own memories, but as it is…”

 

The lab is still a mess (or, perhaps, in some kind of an elaborate pattern that just  _ looks _ like a mess). Samot directs Hadrian around, getting this ingredient and that, while Samot pretends he’s not leaning so heavily on the table under Hadrian's gaze. He mixes the various potions into a foul-looking purple-green paste, scooping out two portions and holding one out to Fero.

 

Fero takes it. He looks down at the paste, then back up at Samot. “What’s it for?”

 

“It will briefly meld our consciousnesses together,” says Samot, “we will eat this, and then go to sleep, and I will be brought into your dream with you.”

 

Fero sniffs the paste. It smells vaguely like burning hair. He wrinkles his nose.

 

“Yes,” says Samot, “I know, but there’s no really other pleasant way to do this.”

 

Hadrian cleans a space on Uklan’s bed for Samot and Fero hops up onto a nearby chair. He eyes the paste critically for a moment before eating it, gagging a little as he tries to swallow it.

 

“Gross, blech,” says Fero, “Now what?”

 

“Now you go to sleep, and I follow,” says Samot.

 

“Okay,” says Fero, a little skeptical still.

 

He closes his eyes, and tries to remember what sleeping feels like.

  
  


_ The garden is just how it always is when Fero visits - sunny and calm, the smell of fresh soil drifting on the breeze. Samol raises a hand in greeting while he’s digging in the vegetable patch and then freezes, his eyes locked on Samot. _

 

_ Fero looks up at Samot. He’s staring at Samol, eye wide, mouth open as though he’s trying to form words. _

 

_ Samol drops the shovel, stepping over rows of carrots and broccoli towards them. He pulls Samot until his arms, and Samot buries his face in Samol’s shoulder. His shoulders are shaking. _

 

_ Fero touches the back of Samol’s hand lightly, and Samol looks down at him. _

 

_ “This is a pretty weird dream,” says Fero. _

 

_ He can hear Samot’s watery laugh, muffled against Samol. Samol smiles down at him. _

 

_ “Thank you Fero,” says Samol, “I never quite feel right, leavin’ a place without a proper goodbye.” _

 

_ “You haven’t left,” says Samot, stepping back from Samol a little, “if you’re still here then-” _

 

_ “Don’t have a body,” says Samol. _

 

_ Samot makes an annoyed sound. “I didn’t start off with one either. That’s of little consequence to a god.” _

 

_ “Maybe for you,” says Samol, “I’m  _ long _ since done.” _

 

_ “Whoa whoa whoa!” says Fero, “No you’re not!” _

 

_ “I died, Fero,” says Samol. His tone of voice is kind, but it strikes Fero in his chest just the same. _

 

_ “If you died then how come you’re still here?” _

 

_ “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to figure out,” says Samol. He huffs a laugh. “Maybe the heat and the dark’s got a fondness for their first creation, I don’t know.” _

 

_ “I have a few ideas,” says Samot. _

 

_ “I would be surprised if you didn’t,” says Samol. _

 

_ “It’s Fero,” says Samot, “something about him has tied itself to you.” _

 

_ “I didn’t do anything,” says Fero. _

 

_ Samot gives his father a curious look. “Perhaps it was the other way around then.” _

 

_ “What reason would I have had for that?” says Samol, his voice still keeping that gentle tone, “I was ready to go, you know that.” _

 

_ “Who did you visit last, before you went?” says Samot. _

 

_ Samol looks at Fero. “You told him about that huh?” _

 

_ Fero shrugs. “You told me to watch out for him.” _

 

_ “I meant more like-” Samol sighs. “Well it don’t matter now, and I don’t see any reason for that to be the cause of all this.” _

 

_ Samot pauses. “Before you… when you last saw Fero, what did you do?” _

 

_ “Just talked,” says Samol. _

 

_ “And I turned into some fish,” says Fero, “and we hugged.” _

 

_ “Oh?” says Samot, raising an eyebrow. _

 

_ “Don’t get any ideas,” says Samol, “you’re in too much a glass house over there to be throwin’ stones.” _

 

_ Samot holds up his hands, smiling a little. “Alright, alright.” His expression turns more serious. “But that may be it, some kind of emotional connection bound to a physical point by touch…” _

 

_ “Without a ritual or a pattern?” says Samol, “That’s a hell of a thing to have this kind of result by accident.” _

 

_ “It may not be entirely accidental,” says Samot. He looks toward Fero. _

 

_ “What?” says Fero, “I already  _ said _ I didn’t do a ritual.” _

 

_ “Not on purpose, perhaps,” says Samot, “but-” _

 

_ Fero groans. “I didn’t  _ do _ anything! We hugged, and yeah, I guess I kind of wished that you didn’t have to go, because I- you’re good to hang out with, or whatever, but I figured you were probably hearing that from enough people already, so I didn’t want to make a  _ thing _ about it and- what  _ now _?” _

 

_ Samot’s expression is thoughtful. “Hmm, I just- hmm.” _

 

_ “I know that look,” says Samol, “what’s in your head?” _

 

_ “I was just thinking about how the gods came to be in the first place,” says Samot, “by a powerful desire put into the world by a strong enough force.” _

 

_ His gaze drops down to Fero, his violet eyes glittering. _

 

_ Fero shifts his feet. “I’m not a god though.” _

 

_ “Neither were the people who made Galenica,” says Samot. He pauses. “Besides, I have a feeling that you perhaps had a little help from my father as well.” _

 

_ It’s Samol’s turn to shift in place this time. “Well. Bein’  _ ready  _ and bein’  _ enthusiastic _ about non-existence are two different things, so maybe there was a little on my part.” _

 

_ Samot does not try to hide his smug expression in the slightest. “Yes, I thought so.” _

 

_ Samol huffs a laugh. _

 

_ “So now what?” says Fero, “Do we have to make you a body?” _

 

_ “Sick of me livin’ in your dreams already?” says Samol. _

 

_ “Nah,” says Fero, “but it might be cool to see you out of them.” _

 

_ Samol’s expression softens a little, and he steps towards Fero, laying a hand on his shoulder. Fero reaches up tentatively, and touches Samol’s hand. Samol smiles, and Fero smiles back, feeling oddly shy. _

 

_ Samot clears his throat, reminding Fero of his existence. _

 

_ “So,” says Fero, “a body. How do we… do that?” _

 

_ “You could manifest one,” says Samot. _

 

_ “Don’t know about that,” says Samol, “might be in a few months time, I feel a little stronger, and I can do that. Or it might be that in a few months time I feel the same.” _

 

_ “When Fero and I wake up, we’ll start looking,” says Samot, “I’m sure there’s  _ something _ at the University that can help us.” _

 

_ Fero can feel the dream start to ripple as Samot speaks and his hand tightens on Samol’s. Samol squeezes his shoulder. _

 

_ “I know, you’re headin’ off. You watch my son’s enthusiasm. If I come out of this dream I want the kind of body I choose, not a hollowed out pala-din.” _

 

_ “It would only be a stop-gap measure while we found something better,” says Samot. “I would have kept trying after that.” _

 

_ Samol huffs a laugh, pulling Samot in for another hug. “I know you would.” He looks back down at Fero. “I’ll be seein' you.” _

 

_ Fero laughs. “Yeah!” _

  
  


It turns out to be nothing so complicated as they thought.

 

This is, perhaps, a slight simplification. There was much studying of old tomes, and arguments, and trials of patterns, and long discussions between Adelaide and Samot that Fero barely understood.

 

For his part, Fero tried to think of Samol as often as possible, not a difficult task, imagining Samol sitting beside the river or eating a meal in town or walking with him through the forest. Sometimes, there would be a feeling of deep  _ warmth _ , like touching a rock that has been soaking in the midday sun, and Fero would turn, half-expecting to see Samol only to find empty air. Each time, it felt as though the warmth lingered for a little longer, the feeling that Samol was close stronger each time.

 

In any case, one night Fero goes to sleep, dreamless, and when he wakes up Samol is sitting beside him in the waking world.

  
  
  


“Mornin’,” says Samol.

 

Hearing Samol speak while he’s awake is so bright and clear it makes it feel as though Fero has been experiencing him from deep underwater. His vision blurs, and he can see Samol’s expression of concern as he leans forward to put a hand on one side of Fero’s face. Fero turns his face into Samol’s hand.

 

He feels Samol shift closer still, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Fero swallows hard, forcing himself to look up at Samol. When he does, he’s struck by how close their faces are to one another’s.

 

“Hi,” says Fero, “I guess that means it worked?”

 

Samol smiles. “I guess it does.”

 

“I guess we should probably go and tell Samot,” says Fero, “And, like, everyone else.”

 

“We should,” says Samol, not moving away.

 

If he’s not going to move,  _ Fero’s _ certainly not. Samol’s lips twitch into a grin and Fero laughs, flopping forward into Samol’s lap. Samol’s arms slide around him, warm and solid and undeniably  _ real _ . Fero wriggles, delight making him twitchy, pressing his face into Samol’s chest for a moment before he grins up at Samol.

 

“We did it!”

 

Samol laughs, the sound rumbling against Fero. “We did.”

 

Fero laughs too, bouncing up to press a kiss to Samol’s cheek, lightning fast, and then his other cheek, and then his lips. As he pulls back, Samol’s hands go to Fero’s shoulders, pulling him forward for another, slower, kiss, and another, and another. Fero feels twined around Samol, his head buzzing with it.

 

They break for air, eventually, Samol’s forehead resting against his. One of Fero’s hands is resting in the crook of Samol’s neck, and he can feel Samol’s heartbeat under his hand, steady and strong and _alive_.

 

Samol smiles, pressing a kiss to Fero’s forehead. “We really should get goin’. Break to news to people that I’m alive.”

 

“Yeah, I  _ guess _ ,” says Fero, sulkiness exaggerated to make Samol laugh.

 

He does, lifting Fero off his lap as he stands. On impulse, Fero reaches out, tangling their fingers together before the begin to walk back towards the University. Samol squeezes his hand, so Fero figures that means it’s alright.

 

“I should probably tell you,” says Fero, as they head out into the early morning light, “the world’s still kind of mostly on fire.”

 

“Well, that’s alright,” says Samol, “we can try to fix it together.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
